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'Demurely, in a high-backed chair- 
Pnscilla sits and scws^ 

—A I^ittle Puritan. 




^eart Songs 



by 



(5ertru6e Ct^eresa (Elark 



illustrations by d. £. ^t)orne 




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THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Copitd Received 

OCT, 3 1901 

Copyright entry 

CLASS ^ )©^ No. 

COPY B. 



7s 3 - - 



Copyrighted 

igoo 
By Gertrude Theresa Clark. 









To Anna Louise Thome, 

who for twenty years has filled 

my life with happiness, 

This Book 

is lovingly dedicated 

by 

The Author, 



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CONTENTS. 



Introduction, - 

Remembrance, - - - - 

To Phyllis, . - - . 

A Warrior's Soliloquy Over His Dead Child. 
*Song— The Flower and the Kiss, 

The Poet and the Tear, 

lyove's Blossom Time, - 
*Serenade, . .. . . 

Answered, 

A Fantasy, _ . . . 

The Dreary Day, 

A Chant of Cheer, - - . - 

*Twilight, 

A Mother's Thoughts, 

A Valentine to My Father, 

The vSoldier's Return, . . . 

The Empty Nest, - - - 

Spinning vSong, . - . - 

A Vision, . _ _ . 

lyines to an Old Miniature, 

Captivity, . . . . 

Dear Eyes, . . . . 

Retrospection. - - - - 

Chanson, - . . . . 

The Princess and the Minstrel, 

Sun.set Time. . . _ _ 

Heimweh. . . . . 

vStop Thief! - . . . 

*When the Wind Blows. 

The Greatest Gift. - - - . 

House Beautiful. 

To a I^ily Maid, . . _ _ 

Back to the I^and of the Golden Buttercups, 

A Valentyne to my ]_,adve Faire, 

The Daylight Dies, 

God's Woodland Temple, 

The Memory of a Song, 

To an Oriole, - . _ _ 

Until You Come. 

As the Troops Marched By. 

Earlv vSpring, - - - - 

Wild' Ro.se, 

Barren, _ _ _ _ 



21-22 

23-24 

25 

26-27 

28 

29 

30 

31 

32-33 

34 

35 

36-37 

38 

39-40 

40-41 

42 

43-44 

45 

46-48 

49 

60-51 

51-52 

53 

54-55 

55 

56-57 

57-58 

59 

59-60 

60-61 

62 

63-64 

64-65 

65-66 

67 

68 

69 



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CONTENTS. 



lyOve's vStar, 
*A A^alentine, 
Afterward, 
*Coquette, 
At Fort Meigs, 
Outside the Fold. 
Convalescence, 
A Thanksgiving, 



DIALECT AND CHILD VERSKS. 



Gittin' Spring, 

The Legend of St. Elizabeth's Roses. 

Deutcher's Qvarrel, 

Remarks by a Minister's Hopeful. 
*Cradle vSong, 

To Mah 'Cindy, 
-My Grani'ma's Hou.se, 
*The Timid Little Maid, 
*Lullaby, _ _ _ 

A Difference, . . . 

To an Old Doll, 

A Parlor Tragedv. 

TabithyAnn, " - 

Back o' Our House. 

When I Got Lost, 

A Little Puritan, - 

A Little Thing, 

In a Japanese Shop. 

The Truant, 

When Tom Went Away, 

The Return. - 
*The Land of the Sandman, 

Movin' Time. 

Wind vSong, 

Dot vSphringtime, 
*Song— All Aboard for Slumber Island, 

The Tin-ware Man, 

When the Light's Put Out, 



81-82 
82-86 
87-90 
91-92 



*Set to mu.sic by the author. 



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INTRODUCTION. 

I had a fleet of little white winged ships, 
And once they rode at anchor, harbored safe 
Within a sheltered bay — my Bay of Thought; 
Now have I launched them forth upon the sea 
We call Opinion, where the waves will beat 
And adverse winds will toss them to and fro. 
What is their cargo? Verse hath this one brought, 
Music doth that contain, the whole a song 
Whose mystic cadence hath my soul's ear caught; 
You are my friends upon the other shore. 
To you I send my little ships to-day. 
Frail are they, timid, yet ambitious, too. 
And this my hope — that one, at least may rest 
Within the kindly haven of your love. 

Gertrtide Theresa Clark. 



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REMEMBRANCE. 

^O BRIEF a while the little home was ours! 

So brief, and yet so happy was the time 
That now is but a memory of flowers, 
Of wild bird's song and Summer's sunny prime! 
I need but close my eyes again to see it, 
The far, fair picture of our frail home-nest, 
Steeped in the sunshine, battered by the showers. 
Or rocked by winds that swept the high hill crest. 

There on the door step we were wont to sit 
As day declined, and watch with envying eye 
The birds of evening, as they ceaseless flit. 
Calling each other through the boundless sky; 
Down dropped the sun, and mountain-peak and side 
And distant valle}^ bathed in roseate hue, 
The rocks grew purple, and the forests vied 
With Heaven's broad arch, to wear the deepest blue. 






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Oh, to remember how the myriad stars 

In the dim twilight thronged forth over head, 

Till, as the night closed 'round her ebon bars, 

One brilliant, endless canopy lay spread! 

All silence — save the murmuring pines, that make 

Soft answer as the wind croons tenderly, 

Like the long waves that ever roll and break 

Upon the beaches of the far-off sea! 

So brief a while the little home was ours! 

Yet Memory's bells peal forth a happy chime, 

For sweeter than the incense of the flowers 

Is every recollection of that time! 

And now, with all these different scenes around us 

The heart's a-hunger — for we see them still. 

The great gray rocks, the pines — and there among them 

The little empty house upon the hill. 



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TO PHYLLIS. 

ipHYLLIS is an April day, 

Dear as sun her happy laughter, 
Bask within it while you may — 
Cloudy frowns come following after! 
Playful as the April wind, 
Tender as a Springtide shower, 
Many moods in her you'll find, 
Scarce the same from hour to hour. 

Phyllis, as the flowers rise 
Under April's coy beguiling, 
So my heart, in sweet surprise 
Blooms beneath thy fickle smiling; 
Thou hast blossoms on thy breast — 
Jealously I long to share it, 
Here is one worth all the rest — 
Phyllis, take my heart and wear it! 




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A WARRIOR'S SOLILOQUY OVER HIS 
DEAD CHILD. 

^I^Y LITTLE child! My tender, fragile flower 

Whose tiny growth and incense-bearing breath 
Hath faded out, in Life's sweet Springtide hour 
Before the bitter frost that men call Death! 

'Twas but the last time that I road afield, 

These waxen, baby-lily hands of thine 

Were clapped for joy, for that thine eyes, now sealed. 

Had caught the glitter of my mail-coat's shine. 



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And as a last farewell, my gauntlet waved 
Toward where thy Mother held thee still on high- 
I little recked the gods my being saved 
Only to will thy blossom-life should die. 



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How have I courted Death full many a time — 
Flaunted my banner in his very face! 
He spares the head that years have tinged with rime, 
To smite thy sunny curls and fell thy grace! 



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Would that I might have met him as he came — 
Fought with him sword to sword — and thou the prize 
Dearer to me than honor or than fame — 
But he hath won thee — not by stratagies 

Nor armor-strength, nor power of good right arm, 
But by that might wherein is mystery, 
No herald's call, no trumpet's wild alarm, 
But stealth, whose dread result alone I see. 

Oh, learned sage, whom Wisdom hath beguiled, 
Whose knowledge all the universe doth span, 
Why should Death claim a happy little child. 
And spare the battle-scarred and mighty man? 






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THE POET AND THE TEAR. 

^1 POET wrote of love and then 

Spread forth the page that all might read, 
And testify, or maids or men, 
Eove's potency of word and deed. 

And still the book lay wide, until . 
One who perused it lingered near 
To read once more, when all was still, 
And dropped upon the page a tear. 

That spot the poet's eye perceives 
Whereon the pearly drop had run, 
Then reverently he closed the leaves 
And whispered, 'Xove and tears are one!" 



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EOVE'S BEOSSOM-TIME. 

TThE first time I saw Nan was when 
The early Spring had come again, 
A robin caroled all that day 
And blue skies peeped between the gray; 
I passed and saw her standing where 







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The sunlight rested on her hair, 

Itself the color of the sun — 

Until they blent and shone as one: 

She looked at me — I saw her eyes 

As blue as April's tender skies — 

And I passed on, but in my heart 

I felt a sudden tremor start 

As though some strange and subtile flower 

Had blossomed there that self-same hour. 




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My Nan! How near, yet far away 

The recollection of that day! 

How many Springs have crossed our sky — 

How many Winters drifted by! 

I turn your dear face up to mine 

And press upon your lips the sign 

Of infinite content and peace 

That grows in strength with Time's increase, 

And thank the God who gave me this — 

Your love, with all its joy and bliss! 

And as I gaze into your eyes 

Seeing therein my Paradise, 

The name of that sweet flower I know 

That in my heart bloomed long ago! 



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Song— SERENADE. 

^IvEEP, sleep, my lady! Sleep! 

The day declineth; 
In the soft air gleams out the fire-fly's spark, 
Night's velvet robe with myriad jewels shineth, 

All through the dark; 
And now the envious sun hath sought his bed, 
Jealous of that dear sunshine on thy head; 
The crickets call, the evening shadows creep — 

Then sleep, my lady! Sleep! 

Sleep, sleep, my lady! Sleep! 
For lo! the roses 
Have guessed the sweetness of thy tender lips, 
And in despair each fragrant blossom closes; 

The wild bee sips 
No lovelier bloom in all the tropic South, 
Mine own beloved, than thy ruddy mouth! 
Thy flower-rivals through thy lattice peep- 
Then sleep, my lady! Sleep! 



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Sleep, sleep, my lady! Sleep! 
The violet hideth 
Her modest head, for she hath seen thine eyes; 
The birds are still, for thy song theirs derideth— 

All Nature lies 
At rest, save I outside thy darkened pane, 
Fear not! Thy true love watchful doth remain, 
Telling his love-beads in the shadows deep — 
Then sleep, my lady! Sleep! 







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QhE lifted up to mine her flower-face 

And asked of me, with grave and wond'ring eyes, 
Concerning God and his far dwelling place, 
Of angels and their home beyond the skies, 
And I, who seemed to her so well supplied 
With knowledge of all matters high and good, 
Answered her questions, fully satisfied 
That in my wisdom she had understood. 



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Oh, little questioner! Another day 
Upon my empty arms I bowed my head 
Above your precious bit of fragile clay, 
From whence the wond'ring little soul had fled; 
Another day! Brief as a passing thought, 
Yet long enough to reach to Paradise! 
Another day! The God himself had taught, 
And I the ignorant and thou the wise! 



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A FANTASY. 

^OVE, wilt thou listen to my fantasy? 

For like the brook that cannot keep within 
The narrow confines of its bank's embrace, 
But breaks at last, to seek a wider course 
And ripples on beneath the April sun, 
Singing the joyous song that Spring hath taught — 
So doth my heart, surcharged with love of thee, 
O'er-leap its bounds and overflow with song; 
Thou art my Springtide and thy smile my sun, 
Beneath whose quickening power my very soul 
Leaps forth in joyousness to dance and sing! 

Like as the Spring brings blossoms to the earth, 
So hast thou brought sweet flowers unto me, 
I see blue violets within thine eyes 
And golden daisies shining on thy hair. 

Tell me! Hast ever seen a humming-bird 
Poising on quivering wings above some bit 
Of luscious bloom, within whose parted depths 
Lay stored the honey that he sought to gain? 
lyo! Even so above thy lips, beloved. 
Mine own have hung in silent ecstasy, 



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Knowing full well the sweetness lying there, 
Yet pausing 'ere I took it to myself, 
In that one rapturous moment to prolong 
The bliss of expectation, which hath found 
Possession in its very grasp at last! 

Or tell me — hast thou seen a lily-bloom 
All gently swayed by some soft passing breeze? 
So unto me thy breast, as fair and sweet. 
Seemed like a lily, moving with thy breath. 

And I have looked into thy calm, clear eyes, 
Likening them unto the Summer sea, 
Till as I gazed, I felt my soul out-drawn 
And sunk forever in their deep blue depths; 
Nay! I desire not that it return, 
For 'tis not death to lose it thus in thee! 
Oh, thou in whom it rests — 'Tis Life! 'Tis Life! 

'Tis thus my heart goes singing all the day, 
And as the brook its cadence still repeats 
When Night hath drawn her dusky curtain 'round, 
So in my dreams my thoughts are still of thee, 
Rejoicing though I wake or though I sleep. 

Love, wilt thou accept my fantasy? 






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THE DREARY DAY. 

^H, ME! This is a dreary day, 

The clouds hang low and the sky is gray, 
The snow drifts up on the window sill, 
Within, without, it is still — so still! 
No sign of life on the white road-way. 
Ah, me! This is a dreary day! 

Oh, for a touch of that hand, once more! 
Oh, for that foot-step upon the floor! 
Listen again — but naught replies, 
Only the wind in the chimney sighs, 
My heart is heavy, I cannot pray, 
Ah, me! This is a dreary day! 

Turn to the window, brimming eyes, 
A tree-line, dim in the distance lies, 
Marking that sacred spot of ground 
Where the snow lies heaped on many a mound- 
Heaven seems very far away — 
Ah, me! This is a dreary day! 



28 



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A CHANT OF CHEER. 



VM IGH in the budding maple-tree 

Against the sunset sky, 
A robin carols cheerily, 
"Dear day, good bye! Good bye!" 

And in the April dawning gray 
When scarce hath passed the night, 
The robin's joyous rondelay 
Bids welcome to the light. 



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Thou little red-breast priest of cheer! 
If only we could sing 
In spite of disappointments here 
And clouds that morn may bring, 



Methinks this roughened path would show 
Less devious and long, 

And some faint heart new strength would know 
To hear our courage-song! 







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Song— TWILIGHT. 

TThIS is our hour, when the daylight fades 

And skies that shone with sunset's after-gleam, 
Grow gray and purple with the evening shades, 
And all the world is misty as a dream. 

Peace every where, from shadowy earth and sea 
To heaven's far-reaching arch, so high, so wide — 
Peace in my heart, for thou art here with me, 
My all in all, and I am satisfied. 



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MOTHER'S THOUGHTS. 



TThE Y are such little hands— so helpless — weak ! 

And yet the time is near, 'twill not be long 
'Ere they shall grow in firmness and in strength; 
Will they uphold the right or choose the wrong? 
God, Who hast bound me with Love's living bands, 
Help me to guide aright these little hands! 

They are such little feet — they waver so, 
But soon they shall be walking on Life's road, 
Then will they step with steadiness, care-free. 
Or stagger underneath some heavy load? 
Oh, Heavenly Father, aid me day by day. 
To keep these little feet along Thy way ! 

Such wond'ring eyes, so innocent and bright, 
Because the heart is ignorant of life! 
Will tears of anguish sometime dim the sight 
Or will they, fearless, gaze upon the strife? 
Oh, God, if trouble clouds the coming years. 
Show Thou Thy smile to sanctify the tears! 




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A VALENTINE TO MY FATHER. 

^K^Y Father, do not think that I 

Although so old, have turned the page 
Whereon is written ''Sentiment," 
For true love doth increase with age; 
My loving heart is yours to-day 
And well I know that yours is mine, 
"I love you!" gladly do I say 
And pen to you this Valentine. 

For you have loved me all my life, 
The thought of me, before m}^ birth. 
Had lifted you a step near Heaven, 
Yet bound you closer to the earth, 
And from the moment that my eyes 
First opened to the light of day, 
You made yourself my willing slave 
And even gloried in my sway! 




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Time rolled apace; too soon I found 
The world was oftentimes unkind, 
But in the shelter of your arms 
A refuge I was sure to find; 
What lover would so patient be, 
So sympathetic, watchful, true. 
So blind to faults, so quick to praise, 
As you, my Father dear, as you? 




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Loyal was my childish heart, 

My woman's heart remains the same. 

As long as I have you to love 

What wish have I to change my name? 

I lay my own dark hair against 

The snow on that dear head of thine, 

And of all men within the world, 

I choose you for my Valentine! 






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THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 

'TThIS is the moment when the soldier's heart 

That leaped exultant through the battle grim, 
Is filled with sweeter, holier sentiment, 
Which surges up, and overflows its brim; 
Hailed as his country's true and lo5^al son 
With shouts of praise that rise to Heaven's dome, 
''Old Glory" waves in peace above his head, 
And all the nation bids him ''Welcome home!" 

A nation's greeting! Yet more deep than that, 

A woman's thankful joy for safe return! 

True patriotism is a mighty flame, 

But so doth love with equal ardor burn! 

Mighty the bloody battle's victory 

Where shot and shell have played the potent part. 

But mightier the victory of Love 

Whose truth hath won and kept another's heart! 



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THE EMPTY NEST. 

^ND this was once a home! This fragile bit 

Of deftly woven grass and hair and threads, 
A hollow, shaped for brooding mother-wings 
That shielded lovingly the callow heads; 
Here swung the Father, trilling forth his joy, 
Here fluttered baby-wings in vague unrest, 
Until strength tempted and the world allured — 
And now there hangs a little empty nest. 

Ah, me! There are so many empty nests 
Where Love once reared, and sang a happy song, 
Till little eyes looked out upon the world 
And little wings grew venturesome and strong! 
The silent rooms now^ echo to the tread 
Of one who wanders there in aimless quest, 
Perchance returned to what was once the home — 
Step softly, then! It is an empty nest! 



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^ING, spinning-wheel! Sing! 

And thy song shall speak of parting, 
The moment's bliss and the farewell kiss 

But illy ease the smarting 
Of lovers' hearts that ache the while 
Though lovers' lips must bravely smile 

To cheer each other through the trial - 
Sing, spinning-wheel! Sing! 

Whirr! Cheerily w^hirr! 
But faster than thy motion 
My thoughts fly far 'cross the harbor bar 

Out to the wide blue ocean, 
For through that trackless waste to-day 
A staunch ship ploughs her outward way— 
Ah, bid my heart its grieving stay! 

Whirr! Cheerily whirr! 



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Sing, spinning-wheel! Sing! 
And thy song shall speak of greeting! 
Oh, best-loved face and the long embrace 

And the raptured joy of meeting! 
For every day makes less the year 
And God shall guard and Hope shall cheer 
Till I shall clasp my own most dear! 

Sing, spinning-wheel! Sing! 







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A VISION. 

SAW a city builded in the skies 
Splashed crimson where the sunset fires kissed, 
Cloud-castles from whose turrets banners hung, 
Celestial cloth of gold and amethyst. 
Spires and steeples glittered for a space, 
White, misty wings seemed thronging everywhere. 
And then a purple curtain folded 'round 
And lo! my city was no longer there! 

But as I passed on through the deepening gloom 

Which gathered faster than mine eyes could see, 

That heavenly vision thrilled me still and seemed 

A prophecy of what is yet to be. 

For surely, as the end of life draws near 

And Death's hand beckons like a waiting wraith, 

Shall not God once more send the purple veil 

And show His city to the eye of Faith? 




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LINES TO AN OLD MINIATURE 




IQmIIvING here in your jeweled frame, 

Tender eyes and a winsome face — 
What though I do not know your name 
And simply bow to your girlish grace? 
You, a glimpse of the long-gone days, 
Closed as leaves of a finished book, 
Still give hint of your witching ways 
In stately poising and modest look! 

Visions of courtly minuet, 
Sword and buckle and powdered que 
Here in my fancy now are set, 
Dainty maid, as I gaze at you! 
How many hearts were rent in twain, 
Given into your sweet command? 
How many lovers sighed in vain. 
Bending over your snowy hand? 



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Mute are those rosy lips to-day, 
Mingled long with the earthly dust, 
Pleading gallant has passed away, 
Sword and buckle have turned to rust; 
But bright as ever those lovely eyes 
That doth the heart of the present lure, 
And Love still lives, in a pictured guise, 
Smiling forth from your miniature ! 




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CAPTIVITY. 

"^O-DAY my longing heart hath led 

My restless feet in some vain quest 
Upon the hills — and now I sit 
Beneath this shadowed rock, to rest. 

Far, far below me, I can see 

The valley's cool green depths and hear 

The tinkle of the cattle-bells 

Rise faintly, sweetly to my ear. 

And yon's the prairie, spreading forth 

Its flowers, like a billowy tide — 

I strain my eyes across its sea, 

For ah, what bounds its compass wide? 



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The mountains! Like the mighty wall 
Of some great fortress, strong and high! 
Kings of the earth, pine-forest crowned, 
Majestic, 'neath the deep blue sky. 

Majestic? Aye! Invincible! 
For though I gaze with tear-dimmed eyes, 
Calm and unmoved they hem me in, 
A prisoner! My roof the skies, 

My cell the hills, whose walls are air, 
And though my feet therein are free 
To wander where my fancy leads, 
What mighty bars encompass me! 

I, like a bird encaged, whose heart 
For his loved mate doth sadly long. 
Beat my poor wings in helplessness 
And cry afar to thee, my song! 



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DEAR EYES. 

"^HEY are such dear, dear eyes! 

Blue as the sea, 
Clear as the Summer skies 

Are they to me! 
Windows behind whose pane 

Love sets the ray 
That is my guiding star 

By night or day, 
Leading my steps into 

That Paradise 
Whose sunshine is the light 

In these dear eyes! 






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'^HERE used to dwell, within my glass, 

A long, long time ago, 
A curly-headed little lass, 

My counterpart, I know; 
And every day she smiled at me 

With wonder in her eyes, 
Because the world appeared to be 

A good and sw^eet surprise. 

To her I often used to say, 

'*I wish that you would grow! 
There are so many things each day 

You always want to know; 
You see so many puzzles here 

In sky and sea and land. 
But Mother says, 'Some day, my dear, 

You'll know and understand'." 



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Year after year, how soon they pass 

And lengthen, day b}" day I 
Again I seek the little lass, 

But she has slipped away; 
A happy little memor}' 

Is all that now she seems, 
No longer a reality — 

A fanc}^ of my dreams! 



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This graver mouth a smile doth lack, 

A line has crossed the brow, 
The curly hair is all put back, 

The eyes are wistful, now; 
Oh, ignorant and happ}^ child 

I knew^ in far off lands! 
Here in your place, I see the face 

Of one w^ho understands. 






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CHANSON. 

If SAW a song-bird, perched upon a spray 

Of maple-bloom, where all the world might see, 
He sang of joy, the live long happy day — 
Yet loves he not his mate as I love thee! 

I saw a flower opening to the sun. 
Quivering with warmth and all the life to be, 
It spread its petals 'ere the day was done — 
Yet loves it not the light as I love thee! 

Dear heart, the whole wide world to-day doth sound 
With birds' sweet song and mute Spring flowers' glee, 
Yet God's infinity alone can bound 
That deepest love wherein I love but thee! 



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THE PRINCESS AND THE MINSTREL 




^ PRINCESS sat at her casement high, 

Over her 'broidery frame, 
The castle walls wore a niddy dye 
From the sunset's brilliant flame; 
Fair was the princess, fair and sweet 
As a princess well could be, 
Of all the maidens about her feet 
There were none so fair as she, 
And pages and courtiers were stationed nigh, 
But her heart was lonely — she knew not why. 

Down through the court-yard, far below, 

A wandering minstrel strolled, 

Full on his face fell the sunset glow 

And glinted his curls with gold; 

Tender and clear was the minstrel's voice 

And sweet as a voice could be, 

Of singers to make a soul rejoice 

The sweetest of all was he. 

The chosen fav'rite of hall and cot. 

But his heart asked something — he knew not what. 



40 



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He saw the face of the princess fair 

Against the curtain set, 

Ivike a picture, framed in its waves of hair, 

While the eyes of violet 

Pierced him through with a wild, sweet thrill 

Strange as a fairy spell 

And the princess leaned on the casement sill 

And her needle idly fell. 

Great the distance between them set. 

But the princess' heart and the minstrePs met. 



fd He lifted his voice and sang of love, 

Passionate, deep and true. 
Until the flower-like eyes above 
Brimmed with a sudden dew, 
And the princess loosened a red, red rose 

/l| From the bands of her soft, dark hair 

And lightly down to the court-yard throws 
This token, so frail and fair. 
And the casement curtain is quickly drawn. 
The song is finished, the singer gone. 



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But the lonely heart of the princess fair 

The minstrel's song caressed, 

And the red rose whispered its answer where 

It slept on the minstrel's breast, 

For the crowded court is an empty place 

And the glad, green country side 

Questioneth ever a fuller grace, 

Till at last Love shall abide, 

For brief the siege till the conquest's done 

And the hearts of the high and low are one. 



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SUNSET TIMK. 

'^HROUGH sunset's portals, at close of day, 

Evening glided, on tip-toe light. 
She spoke to the cloud spirits, ''Float away! 
Playtime is over, so say 'Good Night'!" 

The green hills heard her and said, "Sweet dreams!' 
Then each one tied on her purple hood, 
Closed her eyes to the fading gleams, 
Till wrapped in slumber at last they stood. 

The murmuring pine trees breathed "Good night!" 
And said their prayers in a fragrant sigh, 
And a star, like a radiant drop of dew. 
Stood at the gate of the primrose sky. 

Hushed by the west-wind's cradle song 
The world lay calm in a slumber deep, 
For it crooned so softly the whole night long, 
"Hushaby! lyuUaby! Sleep, oh, sleep!" 




49 



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HEIMWEH. 

TIjfTllTH purple 'kerchief on her flaxen hair, 

Katrina on the doorstep sits her down, 
A pretty picture she, so quaint and fair, 
In wooden shoes and faded cotton gow^n. 



She sings a plaintive little song so sweet, 
In words that only she can understand, 
And passers-by along the busy street 
Drop pennies in her open, outstretched hand. 

For something in the song and singer, too. 
Unconsciously appeals — and not in vain; 
Perhaps it is her wistful eyes of blue, 
Perhaps it is the little foreign strain. 






Katrina heeds them not, for as she sings 
Her childish thoughts go quickly all astray; 
Into her mind the song a vision brings 
Of the dear Fatherland, far, far away. 



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So lately left, so dear, and oh, so fair! 
She sees its vineyards on the sunny hills — 
Here are strange sights and faces everywhere. 
Her heart with sudden homesick longing fills. 

While they who hear the little stranger sing 
In unknown tongue, but dimly understand 
That with the music all her soul takes wing. 
And once more wanders in the Fatherland. 



STOP THIEF! 

'^HERE was a path to My Lady's lips 
But all securely 'twas hedged about, 
Then little boy Cupid said to me, 
''Don't be afraid! I'll help you out!" 
He whispered the pass-word and secret sign- 
The barriers fell and the way was free, 
Then when My Lady's lips were mine, 
Little boy Cupid winked at me! 
''What very bad form!" I could but think. 
"I wonder what makes boy Cupid wink?" 



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There was a door to My Lady's heart — 

Close was it fastened; the key w^as hid: 

Little boy Cupid said to me 

''I'll open it if you'll do as I bid!" 

So he picked the lock — oh, the cunning rogue! 

And My Lady bowed to my lovers commands, 

But as I held her within my arms 

Little boy Cupid rubbed his hands! 

''How impolite!" thought I to myself, 

"Little boy Cupid's a saucy elf!" 

Then said I to him, "What do you mean 
By grinning at me, you little tease? 
I thank you much for your services 
But now you may go, sir, if you please!" 
Ah! next moment I quickly saw 
The reason the rascal had been so sly, 
For little boy Cupid danced aw^ay. 
Waving my stolen heart on high! 
Plain was the cause of all his glee — 
Little boy Cupid had plundered me! 







^^^S^Mu&lflAKS 




Song— WHEN 



WIND 



^1 LL the world dances when the wind blows, 
From the loftiest leaf to the lowliest rose, 
The boughs bend and sway and the blossoms unclose — 
All the world dances when the wind blows! 

The little waves leap as the breeze rushes by, 
And ripple with laughter under the sky. 
One after another they merrily chase 
And frolic together with dimpling face! 

High up in the tree tops the baby-birds swing, 
They know all the songs that the wind voices sing. 
The leaves dance a-tip-toe, close to their beds 
And whisper sweet secrets over their heads. 

Across the green hill-tops the merry winds pass, 
Then down through the meadows they ruffle the grass, 
In wild, happy freedom until the day's close — 
All the world dances when the wind blows! 



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THE GREATEST GIFT. 



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*j| HAVE a joy unspeakable, 

The greatest gift God can bestow, 
Another life is merged in mine 
Until the twain as one doth fiow, 
For me all Nature wears a smile, 
From grass}^ sod to skies above, 
My heart is singing all the while 
Its fervent ecstasy of love! 



I feel thy blessed touch, my lyife, 
Thy head upon my bosom lies, 
My very soul goes forth from me, 
Drawn by the love light in thine eyes; 
How empty Fame and Honors are! 
How dimly doth ambition shine! 
Had I the world in place of thee — 
God! What a worthless life were mine! 



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Oh, Love! Oh, Oneness! 'Tis in thee 
The poor are rich, the simple, wise, 
Life hath a meaning deep and sweet 
And earth becomes a Paradise! 
For all the blessings of my life 
I thank my God, forgetting none, 
But oh, I thank Him most of all 
For thee, my best-beloved one! 




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HOUSE - BEAUTIFUL. 

'^HESE should the great Creator's temples be. 

The woods, where leafy spires point toward Heaven, 
Where feathered choirs hymn their simple praise 
And all to peaceful solitude is given, 
Where, wandering down the aisles of cool, green sod, 
We hold communion sweet with Nature's God. 

House-beautiful! Reared not by human skill 
With noise of building and the toil of man, 
But raised in silence through the Thought Divine, 
A proof perfected of a Perfect Plan, 
Whose truth and love the very insects sing 
And in whose honor flower-censers swing. 



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TO A ULY-MAID. 

*jf SEE thee idly standing, fair Irene, 

Just where the garden paths in winding, meet, 
Where lily-blooms, on graceful stems of green, 
Breathe forth a subtle fragrance, faint and sweet, 
And now I know, why more than all the rest 
The cold, white lily thou dost love the best. 



The King of Fairies once, in gay disguise. 

Danced through a garden bright with blossoms fair, 

His form the loveliest of butterflies, 

And lo! He wooed a lily growing there! 

But she his ardent suit with coldness spurned. 

And from his fond caress disdainful turned. 

Enraged, the baffled King breathed forth a spell 
Above the haughty flower's shining head, 
That she, as mortal, must with mortals dwell, 
Her heart toward Love's advance forever dead; 
Doomed as a maiden thus to live and grow, 
Yet never one of Love's delights to know. 



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'Here midst the lilies, thou dost stroll at wiliy 

—To a I^ily Maid. 



That flower enchanted art thou, fair Irene, 
And calmly turning from my vows and sighs, 
Thy footsteps ever seek the old-time scene 
Where Oberon did woo thee in disguise; 
Here midst the lilies, thou dost stroll at will 
In stately solitude, a lily still. 



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BACK TO THE I^AND OF THE GOLDEN 
BUTTERCUPS. 

^H, for a glimpse of the golden buttercups. 

And oh, for a day in the country where they grow! 
Where the hills are robed in pine 
And the air is sweet as wine, 
And the mountain brook runs laughing to the river 

far below! 
Then come and take my hand, let us run away together 
Back to that luscious bloom the happy wild bee sups, 
Where the strawberries are springing 
And the meadow-larks are singing, 
Back to the land of the golden buttercups! 



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Blue as the skies are the dreamy, distant mountains, 
Clad in royal purple at the closing of the day, 
While as the light wind passes, 
The graceful prairie-grasses 
Rise and fall in billows like the ocean, far away; 

Sit here on the hillside, where the gray rocks roughly 

tower 

And the velvet moss has spread for us a carpet, red 

and green, 
And listen to the voicing 
Of the pine-trees' low rejoicing. 
In the glory and the beauty and the peace of all 

the scene! 




1 



Oh, how the song of birds or subtle scent of flowers 
Blots out the present time and brings the past to view! 
In fancy we are straying 
Where the fragrant winds are playing 
And the boundless sky is stretching forth its arch of 

vivid blue! 
Then come and take my hand , let us run away together 
Back to that luscious bloom the happy wild bee sups, 
Where the strawberries are springing 
And the meadow-larks are singing. 
Back to the land of the golden buttercups! 



58 



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A VAIvENTYNE TO MY LADYE FAIRE 

^K^Y HEARTE is lyke an crystal glasse 

For thrue it thou canst see — 
The glasse is graven — soe my hearte 

Is rynged wyth thoughts of thee. 
And more resemblance yette there is 

'Tvvixt hearte and fragile tokene — 
I pray thee, handle both wyth care 

Lest they, alas, be brokene! 




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THE DAYLIGHT DIES. 



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^ FADING gleam of color shines 

Between the dull clouds broken gray, 
A purple pall, in misty lines 
Shrouds the soft passing of the day; 
A single star blooms in the West, 
Pale blossom of those garden skies. 
And with this flower upon her breast, 
The Daylight dies. 



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Brief day! And yet thy fleeting hours 
Seemed as eternity to one, 
While still another sighed to see 
The last rays of thy setting sun: 
Souls have been born — and Death hath reaped- 
Oh, union sweet! Oh, broken ties! 
The page is turned, the book is closed, 
The Daylight dies. 



^ 



GOD'S WOODIvAND TEMPLE. 

jWE who can tread the woodland's quiet path 

Without a thought of reverence akin 
To that which stirs him when his footsteps pause 
Some glorious cathedral's aisle within, 
Knows not true worship, for behold! Here breathes 
The essence of God's presence every where, 
All Nature's attributes as one combine 
To lift a silent voice of praise and prayer. 



60 



« 



Lo! From the nut hath every tree been raised 

Unto a priesthood consecrate and high, 

By day and night uplifting spotless hands 

Before the mighty altar of the sky ! 

Hark, hear ye not the sweet, mysterious tones 

As they the message of creation tell? 

And mark the great ''Te Deum Laudamus!" 

The while the fitful breezes rise and swell. 

Thou seeker after Truth, that delvest long 
O'er musty tomes and ancient sage's lore, 
Taking on thine already wearied mind 
A heavier burden than it bore before, 
Would'st thou find rest upon this troubled sea 
Where waves of cant and creed and doubting roll? 
Walk in God's woodland temple for a space 
And light and peace shall fill thy tired soul ! 






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THE MEMORY OF A SONG. 

QtNG something else! Not that — not that! 

For at the sound of that refrain 
Old memories that I thought were dead 
Come thronging back to life again; 
To blot out and forget the past 
I've tried so hard — I've tried so long! 
And now 'tis brought to me again 
By that sweet fragment of a song. 



It tears afresh the guarded wound 
And brings the ache here to the throat, 
While every heart-string bruised and sore, 
Is tortured by the music's note! 
For oh, how grieves the empty heart 
When Love upon its throne hath sat 
To leave it desolate at last — 
Sing something else! Not that — not that! 





TTI P and down in the cherry tree 

Master Oriole swings and sings 
His liquid music is full of glee 
And the sunlight glints on his glossy wings; 
Swaying atilt when the sweet winds blow, 
Saucily calling aloud to me 
In my humble seat on the grass below, 
''Ripe cherries! Sweet cherries! Only see!" 

You tantalizing, impudent scrap, 

With your orange vest and trim black coat! 

How can I dare to be talking back 

To answer the carol that swells your throat? 

I see you tasting the ripest fruit, 

Up in that bower of rustling green, 

And catch the gleam of your brilliant suit 

Here and there, with the leaves between! 



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Oh, to be feasting aloft with you, 
Breasting the breezes blowing by, 
From morning sunshine till twilight dew, 
Under the peaceful, cloudless sky! 
Never a thought of Winter drear, 
Never a care to weigh the soul — 
*'Hey, for a holiday! Summer's here!" 
I'd sing, and swing with the oriole. 




UNTIL YOU COME. 

Tn NTIL you come, my love, the sweet Spring day 

Hath not a single joy that charmeth me! 
The tasseled elm tree droopeth o'er the way 
And trills the bird and hums the golden bee; 
But Nature's face might frown instead of smile 
And all her w^aking voices be but dumb 
Could not my eager heart reach forth the while 
Until you come, my love! Until you come! 




Sometimes I think if Heaven's door should stand 
Ajar, to let my faltering footsteps in, 
And I should enter that far, lovely land 
Beyond the pale of human fault and sin, 
I still would linger at the Kntrance Gate, 
Loath to partake of Paradise' full sum, 
But eager still to patient watch and wait 
Until you come, my love! Until you come! 



^ 



AS THE TROOPS MARCHED BY. 

TThE day spoke * 'Peace!" as the troops marched by! 

The April sun, in a tender sky 
On a world of blossoms cast its smile, 
And kissed the bayonets' rank and file; 
The breeze, with secrets the wood had told, 
Lifted Old Glory's fluttering fold- 
Springtime's sunshine and cloudless sky! 
The day spoke ''Peace!" as the troops marched by! 




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Under it all the grim, stern face 

Of him who marched in a soldier's place, 

And a woman's eyes that smiled through tears, 

Sad heart throbbing with anxious fears, 

And a child's voice, wondering, clear and sweet, 

Ringing across the crowded street — 

'Tapa! Papa!" the little cry— 

Oh, breaking hearts, as the troops march by! 






Out of our sight, with martial tread 
And the stars and stripes afloat o'er head. 
The tap of the drum and the trumpet's blare 
That cover the cry and the whispered prayer. 
The wild huzza! The cheer on cheer! 
But under it all, "God keep you, dear!" 
And Springtime's sweetness seems to die 
In an empty world, as the troops march by! 









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EARLY SPRING. 

']^HIS is a day when all the air and sky, 

Broad stretch of field and tangled depth of wood 
Brim o'er with secrets they can scarce contain, 
At which they hint, then smile, and shake their heads. 
Yon blue bird, poised upon the swaying stem 
Of roadside hedge-row, brown with last year's leaves, 
Trills a brief song of joyful ecstasy — 
Then silence, fearing lest he tell too much. 
Sunshine and stillness — then a cawing note 
And the blue sky is for an instant flecked 
With the black passing of a single crow. 
Hoarse-voiced and slow-winged — and then quiet reigns. 
Hidden below the willow^'s yellowang stems 
And wild-rose thicket, red'ning with new life, 
The little brook is laughing to itself 
And w^hispering its gladness to the stones. 
Sunshine and stillness! But beneath it all 
The subtle stir, the throb, the tender thrill — 
And then the fair green landscape shall reveal 
Its Springtide secret to the eager world! 



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WILD ROSE. 

^^O YOU remember that afternoon 

In the sweet and sunny time, long ago? 
'Twas the royal month of roses — June, 
We walked in the lane and our steps were slow; 
We spoke of the blue in the arching sky, 
Of the wild-bird's song and the sunlight's glow, 
But we thought of other things, you and I, 
In the sweet and sunny time, long ago. 

Close to the tangled hedge's side, 

Gently nodding upon its spray, 

A fragrant wild-rose my eyes espied, 

Pink as your rounded cheeks that day, 

And as I plucked it and gave to you 

I felt that my heart my eyes must show. 

While the blush on your cheeks took a deeper hue. 

In the sweet and sunny time, long ago. 

And then — you were lying against my breast 

With kisses falling on face and hair. 

While down at our feet, all crushed and pressed 

Lay the flower whose fragrance had linked us there! 

Ah, dear June's wild-rose! To me thou art 

The fairest blossom that e'er did blow, 

Thou did'st grant me the one wish of my heart 

In the sweet and sunny time, long ago! 



^ ^^^J^^ 








BARREN. 

If T WAS not meant that I should ever know 
The blessedness of children in my home, 
To hear their little feet run to and fro, 
Their merry shouts of welcome as I come; 
Yet when I see a Mother's fond delight 
As some glad Father frolics with his boy, 
My heart in sympathy leaps at the sight, 
I, who am childless, feel a parent's joy. 

It was not meant that I should ever know 

That grief, to see a little casket white 

Cradling a form that is my flesh and blood, 

Ready to bear it from my clinging sight; 

Yet when I see a Mother's sodden eyes, 

And some sad Father's head with grief bowed low, 

My heart, in sorrow for their sorrow, cries, 

I, who am childless, feel a parent's woe. 

No, not for me! Yet this I sometimes think — 
That when my steps have found the Better Land, 
There, on the Living Water's shining brink 
Shall wait an angel— and his either hand 
Shall lead fair children that were never born. 
And he shall clasp their fingers into mine, 
His face with radiance glowing as the morn, 
And whisper to me softly — ''These are thine!" 







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LOVE'S STAR. 

Tljfri HEN, after sun-set time, the evening star 

-; Shines like a dew-drop 'gainst the violet skies. 

It casts its fair reflection from afar 
Down to the pool that in the wood-land lies, 
And the still water, through the long, dark night, 
Bears on its breast that gleam of heavenly light. , . , 

So with the heart sedged 'round by weeds of sin 

And darkened by the care that lieth deep. 

Till lyove, unheralded, appears within, 

Its joy to give and tender watch to keep; 

And that sad soul, where doubt and fear have striven. 

Reflects in peace the light that shines from Heaven. 




•.^1 



Song— A VALENTINE. 

*([ LOVE thee so, that if the sun 

Were quenched in Heaven and one by one 
The stars that gem the evening sky 
Should all put out their lamps and die — 
I should not mind the darkness drear. 
If thou wert still beside me, dear! 
With thee at hand I fear no night — 

Thou art my Light! 






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I love thee so, that if the face 
Of adverse Fate should seek my place, 
To menace me with ugly frown, 
And pull my cherished castles down, 
I should not mind her threatening leer, 
If thou wert still beside me, dear! 
With thee my gold hath no alloy — 
Thou art my Joy ! 



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I love thee so, that come what may. 
Thou art the sunshine of my day. 
Thou art the fortune, kind and sweet, 
That smooths the path beneath my feet; 
My heart with rapture sings to thine, 
My own, my dearest Valentine! 
Through life, till death shall on me fall, 
Thou art my All! 



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AFTERWARD. 

*([ CANNOT think that when this life is over 

And we have drawn our last faint fluttering breath, 
That Love's strong cord shall suddenly be severed 
And drop its broken ends here at our death; 
For God is lyove! lyO, He Himself hath said it! 
That spark w^as kindled by His hand above, 
Then would He bid the fire turn to ashes 
Just at our entrance to the lyand of Love? 

Not so! For when the tired body resteth 
And the worn soul is loosened from its strife, 
The earthly love that taught us while it blest us 
Still lives with us in that new, better life; 
And when at last our loved ones follow after, 
Freed from the clay that bound them to the sod, 
Soul faces soul in joyful recognition. 
And walk together in the smile of God. 







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Song— COQUETTE. 

0H, Nation! Pretty Nanon! 

She walks the green with me 
In petticoat of crimson 
And bodice fine to see! 
My honest admiration 
My stam'ring tongue would show, 
And Nanon's eyes say ''Yes!" 
But Nanon's lips say "No!" 

Oh, Nanon! Pretty Nanon! 
Within her kerchief white 
A red and fragrant rose-bud 
lyies nest' ling, half in sight, 
I'm bold to ask her for it^ 
But oh, I want it so — 
And Nanon's eyes say "Yes!" 
But Nanon's lips say ''No!" 

And when the wood we enter, 
Just where the by-path dips, 
I stoop to taste the sweetness 
Upon her tender lips; 
Her face, with smiles and blushes 
Turns toward me, all aglow, 
And Nanon's eyes say "Yes!" 
But Nanon's lips say "No!" 





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oil, Nanon! Dearest Nanon! 
My heart's well nigh in two! 
'Tis shattered past the mending 
And all for love of you! 
Since silence is consenting — 
Oh, sweetest of replies! 
Just close your lips together 
And answer with your eyes! 



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AT FORT MEIGS. 

Ij^ERCHANCE 'twas such another golden day 
As this, when skies are softly blue and clear 
When bathed in liquid sun the valley lay 
And dry leaves whispered of the dying year, 
Some dusky savage sat beneath this tree 
Whose stretch of limb bespeaks its mighty age, 
And with keen glance, all Nature's book to see. 
Swept with delight this self-vSame lovely page. 







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He saw the river as we see it now, 
A broad blue ribbon, rippled by the breeze, 
And there beyond, the hillside's sloping brow 
With Autumn tinted crown of forest trees; 
What majesty of silence everywhere! 
And that lithe figure, posed in quiet mood. 
With gaudy face and gaily feathered hair — 
A brother he to this vast solitude! 

A little while and lo! The peaceful scene 
Is dim with choking clouds of rifle smoke, 
The rain that wets the gentle hillside's green, 
Is redder than the frost-kissed leaves of oak! 
The valley echoes to the battle's din, 
The yell of savage and the musket's roar. 
And painted bodies gleam the brush within, 
And creep and hide along the river shore! 




Gone, gone to-day! The withered cornstalks wave 
Their rustling banners, as they nod and bow 
Perchance above the dust of that same brave 
Who gazed in gladness, as we gaze just now. 
Softly! His spirit hovers near this spot, 
Faint as a breath I hear a far voice say — 
''Peace! Peace! The warfare have I now forgot, 
For love of Nature makes us kin to-day!" 



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OUTSIDE THE FOLD. 

'^HE room is ruddy with the fire light, 

Where children's faces laugh within the glow, 
They cluster 'round their Mother's knee to-night, 
And hear her merry tales of long ago; 
But as she strokes each restless, curly head, 
And feels their little, clinging arms enfold, 
Her eyes are aching with hot tears unshed — 
One little lamb sleeps far outside the fold! 

Her loving lips meet every fond ^'Good night!" 

She guides with reverence the lisping prayer, 

And broods above each downy pillow white. 

When sleeping heads are safely nestled there; 

Yet here, where all is life and warmth and light, 

She sees another bed, so small and cold, 

Where calm and dreamless, through the long, dark night. 

One little lamb sleeps far outside the fold. 

Thou Mother love! So brave to bear and rear, 
Upholding wav'ring feet that fain would fall, 
Toiling with joy for these that are so dear 
Thou canst not spare the ver}^ least of all! 
Trying in truth to feel, *'Thy will, not mine!'* 
Hiding thy wound until the scar be old. 
Yet knowing that thy heart can ne'er resign 
The little lamb that sleeps outside the fold! 



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CONVALESCENCE. 

^NOTHER lease of life, another trial 

To me a gracious God vouchsafes to give, 
The lips that were so nearly stilled for aye 
Now whisper thankfully, ''Behold! I live!" 
The past comes forth to view — distorted — dim, 
Like to a dream one tells with bated breath — 
A blur of pain, of weary days and nights, 
Of silent watches — and the spectre Death. 

And yet, how could I fold my hands to die 
With your dear face 'twixt me and the Beyond? 
Your clinging arms that ever drew me back, 
Your tears, your broken words, beseeching — fond? 
Your life and mine are one; then could I close 
My eyes and to your love grow deaf and blind. 
Or loose from mine your throbbing, breaking heart 
And cross the river, leaving you behind? 

But now to lie and hold your hand in mine. 
Feeling that though the June time skies are blue, 
A brighter light, more tender, strong and pure, 
Life of my life, is shining forth from you! 
And drawing down to mine your dear, dear face, 
I joy to think that God in Heaven above 
Hath stayed the Reaper's hand yet for a space 
To let us live our joined life — and love! 




lyy — J,—™ — . 





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A THx\XKSGIVING. 

2lSK me why I am thankful, dear, 

Now that Thanksgiving Day is here, 
I'll count my blessings where thanks are due 
And tell them over, sweet-heart, to you. 

Here is a mouth, like a rose half-blown, 
Whose sweetest kisses are all my own, 
Lips that whisper when none are near. 
Words so precious — "I love you, dear I" 

Thankful for that true heart of thine, 
For in its keeping is resting mine, 
Thankful for those dear, earnest eyes 
Where Love is throned in a tender guise, 

Feet w^hose errands are but to bless, 
Hands whose touch is a mute caress, 
The thought and feeling, the life and soul 
That make you into a living whole, 
Thankful for what you have been to me, 
Thankful for what you are still to be; 

You are my blessing, Heart's Delight, 
My life and all that makes life bright, 
And the thanks I offer, most deep and true, 
My darling, are all for you — for you! 








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Dialect anb (£I)iI6 Perscs. 




|TS gittin' Spring! 

How good it seems once more 
To stand a loiterin' at the open door, 
Seein' the snow a mehin' on the hills 
An* runnin' down in little tinklin' rills! 
Sniffin' the earthy smell that's in the air, 
Seein' the blue sky archin' every where, 
An' suthin' in ye sort o' seems to sing 
''Its gittin' Spring!" 



Go an' give that maple tree a tap, 
An' see the drip, drip, drip, o' flowin' sap. 
While all those dull old willers 'cross the way 
Have grown yaller jest since yesterday! 
Sunshine seems to warm ye through an' through- 
Watch the pigeons strut in it and coo! 
lyife's awakin' up in everything — 
Its gittin' Spring! 

-81— 




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Tell ye! I don't want to work at all! 
(Bump o' energy was allers small!) 
StroUin' out o' doors where I can see 
Winter breakin' up, ez what suits me! 
See that bird a teeterin' on that tree? 
Hear him holler? Guess he feels like me! 
We're both rejoicin' in the self same thing- 
Its gittin' Spring! 



^ 



THE LEGEND 
OF ST. ELIZABETH'S ROSES. 

^OME sit on my knee, my dearie, 

And a tale I will tell to you. 
Not about sprites nor giants. 
Nor ladies and knights so true, 
But of a maiden named Elza, 
In the far off German land. 
Who married a stern old noble 
And lived in a castle grand. 

-82- 









Now Elza was fair and gentle 

And kindly as kind could be, 

She visited all the needy 

And cared for them tenderly, 

But the Baron, her surly husband, 

Was stingy and hard and grim. 

The villagers feared his presence 

And shrank away from him. 

One day in a grumbling humor 

He spoke to his wife and said 

'*Thou spendest thy time in the village 

With charity, so 'tis said. 

Carrying wine and honey, 

Broth and fruits and bread, 

That the lazy, complaining peasants 

On thy bounty may be fed. 

Now listen to me, my Elza! 

This day I forbid thee more 

To carry thy laden basket 

And visit from door to door! 

Let me hear no more of thy bounty 

And thy so-called charity, 

Refrain thy hand from giving, 

Or it will be worse for thee!" 

She heard his command in silence. 

And her heart was heavy indeed. 




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But not for the threat he uttered — 

Of that she took small heed; 

But she thought of the sick and aged, 

The poor and scantily clad, 

All on her alms dependent — ; 

No wonder her heart was sad! 

She went to her own apartment, 

And kneeling there, she prayed 

That God would give her His guidance 

And strength to be not afraid. 

The command, unjust and cruel, 

She could not, she felt, endure. 

For without her ministrations 

Who would befriend the poor? 

Rising from her devotions, 

Cheered by the earnest prayer, 

She threw her cloak about her, 

Descended the winding stair 

And, filling a willow basket 

With generous supplies, 

Paid her accustomed visits, 

An angel in disguise. 

So the time passed swiftly. 

And never a day rolled 'round 

That did not see sweet Elza 

On errands of mercy bound. 




-84- 



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But early one Winter morning 
As she passed along her way 
She met her husband, riding 
Off to the hunt that day. 
Over her laden basket 
She threw her cloak, but he, 
Spying the hurried action, 
Rode up most angrily, 
Reining his horse beside her. 
He frowned on her face so fair, 
And spoke, '^Stop here, deceiver! 
What dost thou carry there?" 
And Elza, with face as gentle 
As his was aflame with wrath, 
Stood at his horse's stirrup. 
There in the snowy path. 
Breathing a prayer that Heaven 
Assistance would accord. 
And standing meek and silent 
Before her angry lord! 
The Baron leaned from his saddle, 
Threw back her cloak, and there 
Was a basket filled with roses, 
Perfuming all the air. 
Buds, as pink as the sunset 
And full blown, red and round, 



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—85- 



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With not a rose-tree bloommg 
And snow upon the ground! 
Fear filled the heart of the Baron, 
And shame and remorse were there, 
He pressed a kiss of reverence 
On his young wife's shining hair. 
And clasping her slender fingers 
His great gloved hand within, 
He spoke in words half- whispered, 
*'Elza, forgive my sin!" 
The tale was the talk of the village, 
In cottage and field and mart, 
And the peasants spoke, rejoicing, 
Of the Baron's change of heart. 
For Elza their love was boundless. 
And when she was claimed by death 
They kept her memory sacred 
As '*Saint Elizabeth." 

That is the tale, my dearie. 
Of the miracle love once wrought. 
For Heaven will send assistance 
If by faith and prayer 'tis sought. 
And in Germany every peasant 
The history well doth know 
Of Saint Elizabeth's roses 
That blossomed out in the snow. 



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—86- 








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DER DEUTCHER'S QVARREL. 



II^ONCE me und Katrine qvarreled 

Vot you vas call ''fell oudt,'' 
Und it don't been make no deefrence 
To you vot its apoudt. 
But I was choost der maddest 
Man you efer see, 
Exzebting it vas Katrine 
She vas choost as madt as me! 

I vas been to see my Katrine 
Und der day vas choost been fine, 
Der roses vas a plooming 
In der peautiful sunshine, 
Und der liddle birds vas singin' 
In der pranches all apoudt, 
Der vedder vas been lofely 
Before ve dwo fell oudt. 



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Ach Himmel! My Katrine! 
Her eyes vas shparkle so! 
She look like von big icicle 
Und dell me I should go, 
Und I say no von vas gladder 
To leaf her dan I am, 
Und I go out py von hurry 
Und I gif dat door a shlam! 

I go me down der roadt side 
But der flowers I don't see, 
Der liddle birds vas singin', 
But dey don't been sing for me! 
Und I don't see no sunshine 
On der fields so nice und green, 
Because I left my sunshine 
In der house mit my Katrine. 

Und I choost made my mind oop 
Dot I would schtay avay 
Till Katrine she been tell me 
She sorry vot she say. 
Undt I not go pack qvickly, 
But vait von liddle vile, 
Und maybe Katrine see me 
At some udder fraulein shmile! 



—88- 










Sii 




Choost den, vey in der bushes, 
I shpied a liddle nest, 
Der modder bird vas broodin' 
Her eggs beneath her breast, 
Und her mate oop in der branches 
Vas singin', awful gladt — 
By Gracious! Ven I saw dem 
I didn't feel so madt! 



Und choost so qvick, my anger 

It vas begin to cool — 

I vas been half susbecting 

I been von tam big fool ! 

Und dot liddle bird vas singin' 

**I don't been madt like you. 

So I'fe got my Katrine 

Und der liddle home nest, too!" 



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You bet dot set me thinkin' 
As I nefer thought before. 
Dot if I lose Katrine 
I care for life no more; 
Und vile I vas a-thinkin' 
My foots turn 'round so fast, 
Back in von great big hurry. 
To vere I saw her last. 



—89— 



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Und also I vas thinkin' 
Dot maybe Katrine say 
She been stay madt for effer, 
Und sendt me yet avay. 
Und maybe I been see her 
Shmile at some odder man — 
Du lieber Gott! Ven I think dot 
My foots dey choost been ran! 




Katrine she vas shtandin! 
Choost by der gate oudtside. 
Her eyes been lookin' funny — 
I maybe think she cried! 
Und ven I come glose by her, 
Vot you subbose I do? 
I say ''Katrine, I sorry!" 
Und she say, ''I sorry, too!" 

Und somehow, in a minute 
Our arms vas 'round us — so! 
But I don't been goin' to dell you, 
Because I guess you know; 
But ven dot nest I pass me, 
Und dose singin' I been heard, 
I visper to me softly, 
''Gott bless dot liddle bird!'' 



—90— 



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REMARKS BY A MINISTER'S HOPEFUL. 




*ll TELIy you what! When I'm away 

From home, there's lotvS o' things I say 
That has a awful sassy sound — 
I wouldn*t dast if Pa was 'round! 

An' there is some things what I do 
Would make my Pa just talk like — whew! 
But I*m as quiet as a mice 
When I'm at home — I'm awful nice! 

Why, I just hafio be, because 
My Pa, he lays down lots o' laws, 
N'en us childrens has to do 
The very things he tells us to! 

I guess you'd be scared if you heard 
My Pa get in the lastest word 
When folks is talkin', 'cause, you know, 
He says ''That settles it!"— just so! 

Why, my Pa he's a great big man! 
He c'n talk Latin, my Pa can! 
N' he's got lots o' books n' such 
A pile o' things we dassent touch! 



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Sometimes, my Pa, he goes away 
To Conf rence, an' sometimes he'll stay 
In that town over night — then we 
Have more fun 'n you ever see! 

Ma, she don't care, so we don't go 
To bed till nine o'clock or so, 
And we makes candy an' we slides 
Down the bannisters, besides! 




My teacher in the Sunday School, 

She teached me the Commandment's rule 

An' told us children to obey 

An' honor all our Pas might say. 

But though I really try and try 
To be real good — I wonder why 
It is that I have always found 
I act my best when Pa aint 'round! 



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-92-- 



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Song— CRADLE-SONG. 

*||^OCK-A-BY, baby! The moon is a cradle, 

A white, silver cradle swung up in the sky, 
The clouds are the pillows, so soft and so downy, 
The bright stars are candles! Rock-a-b}^ bye! 



Rock-a by, baby! The flowers are sleeping, 
The birdies are resting — no longer they fly. 
But up in the tree-tops are cuddled together, 
Their tired wings folded! Rock-a- by, bye! 

Rock a-by, baby! My birdie is tired, 

Play-time is over and sleepy-time's nigh, 

The Sandman is coming to take you to Dreamland, 

Close, little eyelids! Rock-a-l)y, bye! 




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TO MAH' CINDY. 

*[f AIN' got no speck uv patience 

Wif dese no 'count yellah niggers, 
Dat makes love unto dey sweet-ha'hts 
In dese flowery, white- trash figgers! 
Calls 'em ''doves" an' ^'stahs" an' ''roses,' 
When dey cotes 'em fo' a wife — 
Do you tink a gal supposes 
Dat gwine last huh all huh life? 

'Cindy, youse de onliest lady 
What my ha'ht's a follerin' aftah! 
You is sweeter dan dat bacon 
Hangin' up dar on de raftah! 
Purtier dan any blossom, 
All my hongry ha'ht a fillin' — 
Yo' mah honey! Yo' mah 'possum! 
Yo' mah red-ripe wattah-millon! 



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MY GRAM'MA'S HOUSE. 

/HNy Gram'ma's house is 'ist the place 

Where I like best to go! 
They's lots o' cherry-trees iu front 
A standin' in a row 



An' when Ma says 'at cherries aint 
A very healthy food, 
Why, Gram' ma says she thinks a few 
Does any body good! 

An' one o' her blue bowls heaped up 
Is what she calls 2i few. 
An' n'en she gets a piece o' cake 
An' gives it to me, too! 

An' tells me I had better sit 
Right in the hammick, so 
'At all the crumbs '11 'ist spill out 
An' don't care where they go! 

They's chickens out to Gram'ma's house, 
What John calls "horny legs" — 
An' I can reach the basket down 
An' go an' find the eggs! 




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An' they's a ole chaise in the barn 
Where I can go play drive, 
An' tell my horse "Geddap!" an' "Whoa!' 
'1st like he was alive! 

No body out to Gram' ma's house 
Tells me 'at little boys 
Had best be seen instead o' heard, 
So I must hush my noise. 

It's 'ist so nice and sunny there, 

An' still as any thing! 

Why, you can hear the cows go ''Moo!" 

Away down by the spring! 

An when the old wood -pecker taps 
The sound is 'ist as plain! 
An' n'en a robin red-breast comes 
A hollerin' fer rain! 




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When my Pa comes a drivin' up 
Fer Ma an' me, why I 
Don't want to go a single bit 
An' sometimes I 'most cry! 



-96— 








An' if I didn't have a home 
Where I 'ist hafio stay, 
I'd always live to Gram'ma's house 
An' never go away ! 



Song— THE TIMID LITTLK MAID. 

TThERE was once a little maid 
Who was very much afraid 

When she had to stay alone one dark, dark night; 
The thought of burglars bold 
Made her very back-bone cold, 

And plunged her into ecstasies of fright! 




So she stepped with stealthy tread 

And looked underneath the bed, 
And examined all the window-locks with care, 

She tried the keys in place 

With a very anxious face. 
And under every door-knob placed a chair! 



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She planned to scream in fear 

That the neighbors all might hear, 
If a horrid man upon her should intrude, 

And she brought in from the hall 

Her little parasol, 
As a weapon to defend her solitude 

Then she slept the whole night through, 

Quite the proper thing to do, 
And woke to disappointment after all — 

Her toil had been in vain. 

Because 'twas very plain, 
No burglar thought it worth his while to call! 



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Song— LULLABY. 

*jj^EST, my tired little one! 
All the world's at rest, 
Baby-birds are cuddled soft 
'Neath their Mother's breast; 
Now the ship's white sails are furled. 
Evening wraps the weary world, 
Day time, play time— both are done. 
Rest, my tired little one! 




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Sleep, oh sleep, my little one! 
All the world's asleep, 
Flowers nod their heavy heads 
In the shadows deep, 
And the sails upon the mill 
Sleep because the wind is vStill, 
Gone to bed the tired sun — 
Sleep, oh sleep, my little one! 

Dream sweet dreams, my little one ! 
All the world's adream, 
Tree tops murmur as they drowse, 
Sleepy star-eyes gleam; 
Mother-love and Mother- song, 
God to guard thee all night long! 
Smiling visions have begun — 
Dream sweet dreams, my little one! 




A DIFFERENCE. 

gOMETIMES I'm 'ist as awful bad 

As ever I can be, 
N'en my Pa, he says " '1st wait 
An' he will tend to me!" 



—99- 



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N'en I'm scared an' wisht the floor 
Would let me 'way down through, 
Because my Pa, he always does 
The things he says he'll do! 

But when I'm naughty to my Ma 
Or been a tellin' lies. 
She never scolds, but I can see 
The sorry in her eyes! 

N'en I tell myself 'at I 
Aint sorry— an' don't care! 
But I don't want to play an' 'ist 
Keep hangin' 'round her chair! 




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Somehow, I don't feel naughty then. 

The way I did before, 

An' pretty soon I wonder if 

She loves me any more! 



It makes me feel so all alone — 
An' sumpin's in my eye 
'At goes a hoppin' down my nose — 
An' I bu'st out to cry! 



-100— 



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N'en Ma, she lays her sewing down 
An' takes me on her knee 
An' hugs me tight up in her arms 
An' cries along 'ith me. 

An' n'en we love each other hard! 
More'n we did before! 
An' I 'ist know I'll never be 
So naughty any more! 

An' I am lots a gooder boy 
When I've made up 'ith Ma 
Then when I've had to go an' take 
A lickin' from my Pa! 



TO AN OLD DOIyly. 

0H, Polly! Dear old dolly 
I loved in childish days, 
With countenance so jolly 
And pretty dolly- ways! 
My thoughts to you are turning 
To-night — to you alone. 
For you my heart is yearning 
Though I'm a woman grown. 




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The fun we've had together 
Is not beyond recall — 
To think of those tea-parties 
And ''playing school" and all! 
And ''keeping house" so cosy 
In the barn upon the hay 
Or frolicking up garret 
Upon a rainy day ! 

Your eyes were rather stare-y, 
My Polly, I confess, 
And your feet were stubby -z^^A-y, 
But I loved you none the less, 
I did not mind your stiffness, 
Your hair in olden style, 
Because you always met me 
With that same friendly smile! 






Into your sawdust bosom 
I poured my hopes and fears. 
You heard my happy laughter. 
You saw my childish tears. 
You never told my secrets 
Nor sermonized to me, 
But patiently you listened 
In silent sympathy. 




Oh, Polly! Dear old dolly! 
Companion tried and true! 
This world of grown-up folly 
Holds not a friend like you ! 
To-night I'd fain exchange it 
With all its shallow charms, 
To sleep the sleep of child -hood 
With Polly in my arms! 



A PARLOR TRAGEDY. 

^ DRESDEN-CHINA maiden upon a bracket sat, 
There were pretty ribbons painted around her 

little hat, 
Her mouth was red and smiling, her eyes were round 

and blue, 
And she wore a flowered petticoat and high heeled 

slippers, too. 

Now, just across the parlor, upon the mantel shelf, 
A plaster fisher-laddie stood all day by himself, 
Beneath his old torn hat-brim his face smiled bright 

and young 
And across his sturdy shoulder his fishing net was hung. 




-103— 



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Just why the Fates uncertain should thus have placed 

these two 
Is a riddle, whose solution I'll have to leave to you, 
For the plaster fisher-laddie, upon his shelf displayed, 
Saw his neighbor on her bracket and loved the china 

maid! 

^Sa And when the room was empty — that mortals might 

not learn, 
He told of his affection and begged a like return! 
But his little Dresden sweet- heart was a very sad coquette, 
And she scorned a plaster lover who bore a fisher's net! 

Ah, then his hopes were blighted and he cared to live 

no more! 
So one day, when the servant the mantel dusted o'er, 
Close to the edge he lingered, and as she swept the shelf 
She struck him — Crash! He tumbled, and thus he killed 

himself! 



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When the Dresden-china maiden beheld the suicide, 
Her blue eyes stared in horror, and with anguish loud 

she cried, 
But the servant did not hear her, for with broom and 

rattling pan 
She was sweeping up the pieces of the luckless fisherman ! 



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Poor little china maiden! She mourned the fisher's fate 
And realized that she loved him when it was all too late! 
She lost her pretty color like other stricken maids, 
Till the family said in wonder, ''Why, how that image 

fades!" 



One day into the parlor there strayed a little boy. 
He climbed up to her bracket and she hailed his touch 

with joy! 
She knew that he would take her, since his Mother 

that forbid 
And she hoped that he would break her — and sure 

enough he did! 

They picked the scattered pieces up from the parlor floor 
And threw them on the ash-heap out- side the kitchen 

door, 
And the bits of Dresden china and the scraps of plaster 

crust 
In that final place of resting commingled with the dust. 



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—105— 




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TABITHY ANN. 

(JrAM'MA'S Tabithy Ann, why she 

Is alluz terribul good to me 
When we're a visitin' there, becuz 
"You're looks are just like your Father's wuz, 
An' your laugh's the same ez his used to be!'' 
Tabithy Ann, she says to me. 





She makes the goodest blue-berry pie 

Gram' ma's Tabithy Ann does — my! 

An' one's a purpose for me to eat, 

Baked in a saucer — an' awful sweet! 

"Your taste's like your Father's used to be!" 

Tabithy Ann, she says to me. 

Tabithy Ann won't let me stay 

'Round the kitchen on bakin' day — 

"Keep out o' that flour! Shut down that lid! 

You meddle same ez your Father did! 

A pryinger young one I never see!" 

Tabithy Ann says that to me. 



106— 



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My Pa's awfully old — an' yet 
Tabithy Ann she don't forget! 
Why, when Pm all grown up, I know 
She'll talk to my little boy just so — 
'*You*re like your Father in every way!' 
That's what Tabithy Ann '11 say! 



BACK O' OUR HOUSE. 

JKACK o' our house, away up on the hill. 

Is where the butter-cups grow jest so thick 
You stand a gazin' at the yaller spread 
And each so big you don't know which to pick! 
It seems as though the golden stars o' heaven, 
That shine through Summer twilights sweet and still. 
Had all dropped down to bloom ez earthly flowers, 
Back o' our house, away up on the hill. 

And there is rocks, great gray ones, rough and high, 
Back o' our house — they rise up from the earth, 
Makin' you wonder what was Nature's mood 
To give to such fantastic shapes a birth; 
And over them is growin' the green moss 
Thick ez a carpet, and the air's so still — 
'Pears like a person's mighty close to God 
Back o' our house, away up on the hill. 



—107— 



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Jest sittin' there a baskiii' in the sun, 
Hearin' a robin 'way off in the pines, 
Seein' the mountains 'ith their snowy tops 
Against the sky, in blue and dreamy lines, 
Fergittin' all the trouble in the world, 
And jest a feelin' all yer whole heart fill 
With thankfulness fer sun and buttercups, 
Back o' our house, away up on the hill. 




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WHEN I GOT LOST. 

(^NCST, when I was a little boy, 

lyOts littler 'an I am now, 
I w^ent out after huckle-berries 
An' Ma, she didn't tell me how 
As I might go, an' I was 'fraid 
'At she'd say *'No," an' be real crost, 
An' so I didn't ask her, an' 
So I got lost! 



-108— 



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1 guess I didn't know my way 
Real good, 'cause I kep' thinkin' how 
'At I would come out pretty soon 
To where John goes to milk our cow 
'At waits for him down by the bars, 
An' one time I went too, acrost 
The pasture 'long with John, but John 
Aint never lost! 

I kep' a walkin' on an' on 
An' lookin' everywhere around 
To find the path, an' my, but it 
Was awful still! 'Cept just the sound 
Of crickets hollerin' in the grass, 
An' oh, the sun w^as awful hot! 
An' there was only bushes there. 
An' not a single shady spot! 




N'en I thought what would I do 
Supposin' 'at a great big bear 
Should come along an' eat me up 
An' my Pa wasn't anywhere 
To help me out! An' oh, I felt 
Just awful sorry 'at I sauced 
Our John what comes to milk our cow- 
' Cause I was lost! 



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An* by and by I found a fence 
What I crawled through — an' saw a road 
An' there's a man what saw me cry, 
An' n'en his horses he just "whoa'ed!" 
An' asked me what the matter was? 
An' when I say ''I'm lost," w^hy he 
Just laughed an' says, ''I know your Pa, 
So you just come along 'ith me!" 

N'en that nice man, he let me help 
Him drive a little ways — an' there 
Our house is, an' my Ma is out 
A lookin' for me every where! 
'An she just hugged me in her arms, 
'An didn't scold — and w^asn't crost, 
An' gave me bread 'ith jelly on 
'Cause I been lost! 



^ 



A LITTI.E PURITAN. 

2)EMURELY, in a high-backed chair 

Priscilla sits and sews, 
Too far above the polished floor 
To touch it with her toes. 



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She must not swing her feet, but be 
As quiet as she can, 
Such conduct illy would become 
A little Puritan! 

But as with countenance sedate 
She deftly draws her thread, 
What lively thoughts run riot through 
Her pretty little head! 

She thinks of how the ripples dance 
Out on the bay so blue, 
And wonders why 'tis wrong for her 
To skip and frolic, too. 

And why a sober-colored gown 
She every day must wear, 
When even flowers and butterflies 
Are dressed in colors fair. 

A robin carols forth his song 
Close to the open door. 
The sunshine slants its golden rays 
Across the oaken floor. 



—Ill- 





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And all the Summer out-door world 
Rejoices through the hours, 
With rippling water, waving leaves, 
And singing birds, and flowers. 

But sitting in her high-backed chair 
As upright as she can, 
Priscilla sews, as doth become 
A little Puritan! 




^ 



A I.ITTLE THING. 

^HE was sech a little thing! 

As my memory takes a swing 
Somehow, now, a lookin' back 
Up an' down along Time's track, 
'Pears to me, upon my soul, 
I was teasin' jest the whole 
Endurin' time, all kinds o' weather, 
When we went to school together! 






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—112- 




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Ef I splashed the mud, why she 
Knowed she'd have to run from me, 
'Cause I certingly was bound 
To splatter up her little gownd! 
Ef the sun was blazin' hot 
On the playground, like ez not 
I'd jest grab the shady place. 
Set there laflfin' in her face! 

She was sech a little thing! 
AUuz let me set an' swing 
Twicet ez long ez it was fair! 
Took the ribbons from her hair 
Lest I'd steal 'em off her braid — 
Somehow, she was alluz 'fraid 
When I was around, ye know, 
'Cause I alluz teased her so! 




Time flew by on rapid wing, 
Still she was a little thing, 
Though she wore a growed-up gownd 
Reachin' nearly to the ground, 
An' the hair I used to pull 
Now was coiled up soft and full 
On the proudest little crown 
In the country, up and down. 






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Teasin' sort o' dropped, somehow! 
Seemed to change to askiri' , now, 
Might I 'scort her, ef she'd please, 
Home from church an' spellin' bees; 
She would smile so kind o' shy 
Out the corner of her eye, 
Take my arm an' off we'd go 
Walkin' homeward through the snow. 

Jest the proudest chap alive 
Was I, takin' her to drive, 
When I'd ast of her to go 
Half a dozen times or so. 
An' her pretty little ways 
'Minded me o' childish days 
When she'd turn from me an' run 
From my plaguey teasin' fun! 

She was sech a little thing! 
But there w'ant a single string 
Of my heart, that didn't play 
Music, when she'd come my way! 
An' I found out, soon er late, 
That the settlin' o' my Fate 
Was to ast her something — jes' 
Ast an' beg till she'd say "Yes!" 





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/was wuss scared, every way, 
Ever she was any day! 
Why, my tongue would hardly stir 
At the thought o' askin' her! 
Hands an' feet seemed made o' lead, 
Roarin' sounds went through my head — 
Queer how all my pluck took wing! 
She was sech a little thing! 

But when I'd made out to say 
Would she have me, any way, 
What do you suppose she said, 
Laughin', with her face all red? 
Why, jest this — she'd be my wife 
'Cause I'd plagued her all her life! 
Ef we run in double track 
May be she could pay me back ! 

She was sech a little thing! 
But there never lived a king 
Rich enough by half to buy 
One glance o' her smilin' eye! 
She is big enough to fill 
All my heart, an' allers will; 
lyife holds all that love can bring 
Shared by sech a little thing! 




-115 







§1 



IN A JAPANESE SHOP 




TTlFE is so queer in a Japanese shop! 

The serving-maids on the shelf that's on top, 
And the Mandarin stands on the shelf down below, 
But if they were live people it wouldn't be so! 

MWI The maids would all stand in the lowliest place 

And each would bow humbly and cover her face, 
While my lyord Mandarin, in his queer pointed hat 
Would take the top shelf, I am certain of that. 



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But here the maids live on the uppermost shelf, 
He dwells with the bric-a-brac, all by himself. 
You'd think that with pride he'd be ready to drop. 
But life is so queer in a Japanese shop! 







THE TRUANT. 

^EE him crouched behind the hedge-row, 

This rebel, fierce and small! 
His fellows all are flocking 
To the bell's persistent call, 
But the glory of his freedom 
Has dulled the poignant edge 
Of the conscience of the truant 
Who hides behind the hedge! 

* 'School-bell's ringin' but I don't care! 
I aint goin' ter school to-day! 
Fellers don't git half a chanst 
Fer liavin' fun, 'cept Saturday! 
An' then ye haf ter chop the wood, 
'Bout five hundred sticks er so, 
An' carry water an' pull up weeds 
'Fore yer Mother' 11 let ye go! 

School-bell's ringin' ! Let'er ring! 
'Most believe 'at my head aches! 
Jog'fy lesson's awful hard 
An' I jest hate ter make mistakes! 
Honest, now, my head 'mos^ aches — 
I aint 'fraid o' teacher's rule! 
Golly! See them fellers run! 
Act like they was siuck on school ! 



-117— 



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'F ever I git a little boy 
He won't go ter school, you bet! 
I'll jest give him a bully time! 
Won't be nothin' to make him fret! 
He'll come to me, awful 'fraid, 
An' he'll say, Ta, do I haf^o go?' 
An' I'll jest give 'im a stick o* gum 
An' pat 'is head an' tell 'im 'No!' 

Wisht 'at I was a man right now! 
I'd walk inter school an' say, 
*Mr. Teacher, you kin quit 
An' give these fellers a holiday!' 
Bell's stopped ringin' an' I aint there! 
Bet Jim Jones an' Moses Strong 
'Sboth a eyin' my empty seat 
An' wishin' 'at they'd come along! 

Bet I know what Pm goin' do! 
I'm goin' down along th' crick! 
Me an' Jim's found a dandy place 
Where the fishes is awful thick! 
Guess my head aint goin' ter ache — 
Fresh air's good fer it, any how! 
So long, ole school, till 'nother day! 
'Spose they're recitin' Jog'fy now!" 






-118- 



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See him creep a long, safe distance 

Shielded by the green hedge- row, 

Then dart across the meadow 

lyike an arrow from a bow! 

And which of us begrudges him 

His day of stolen joy, 

When sweet Springtime and shady pools 

Were made to tempt a boy? 



^ 



WHEN TOM WENT AWAY. 



II Recollect it jest as well 
As if 'twas yesterday, 
The apple orchard was all in bloom, 
'Twas some time 'long in May; 
Mother was pressin' out Tom's coat, 
Never a word to say, 
The girls were packin' the old valise, 
For Tom was goin' away 



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-119- 



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Each one slipped in a little gift, 

It didn't amount to much, 

A shirt an' some new hemmed handkerchiefs 

An' knitted socks an' such, 

An' right on top, where he'd see it first, 

Eliza's Bible lay, 

With Tom's name written beneath her own, 

For Tom was goin' away. 

Abner Jones, he was Tom's great chum, 

Him an' his brother Ned 

Jest left their hoein' and come 'cross lots 

To ''see him off," they said, 

Father went to the barn to hitch 

To drive him into town, 

An' Tom stood up and says "Well, good-bye!" 

When he see the team come 'roun'. 

We all went with him to the gate, 
An' he promised he'd write each week, 
Mother says "Don't forget us, Tom," 
An' then she couldn't speak; 
We watched the wagon clear out o' sight, 
Through tears that blurred all gray, 
An' then we turned to the empty house, 
For Tom had gone away. 



-120— 




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THE RETURN. 

^O I'm back again to home 

Am I? Well, I s'pose it's so, 
Jedgin' by the looks o' things 
T'aint the place /used to know; 
W'3S they've got a railroad line 
Runnin' right straight thro' the town 
Things hev' changed almighty much 
'Pears to me, on lookin' roun'. 

Over yander is the spot 
Ole man Peters kep' his store, 
Used to be a place to hitch 
In the shade, before the door; 
Where's that great, tall row o' elms? 
Cut away? Sho', that's too bad! 
They was mighty purty trees. 
Nicest ones the village had. 

Day before I come away, 
Susan Brown and me, we drove 
'Long the road that used to go 
Past the river, through the grove; 
Now^ a fact'ry's built up there, 
Grove's cut down like all the rest — 
Susan's married, so they say, 
L/ivin' somewheres 'way out West. 



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Houses numbered, streets all named, 
Rows 6' cottages — Queen Anne! — 
Stores an' offices an' such, 
Mimickin' the city's plan, 
Old folks dead and young ones growed, 
Strange, new faces everywhere, 
Sho' ! Don't reckon I can stay, 
Makes me homesick, I declare! 




Song— THE LAND OF THE SANDMAN. 

*|^0! Eittle traveler! Whither away? 
Flowers and birdies are sleeping. 
Evening has come in the midst of your play, 
And at you the bright stars are peeping; 
All the red sunset has gone from the skies, 
lyong shadows lie on the heather, 
Drooping the lids of your bonnie brown eyes, 
So come, let us voyage together. 

Nid noddy — so, 

Rock-a-by — slow. 
To the Land of the Sandman we'll go, we'll go, 
To the Land of the Sandman we'll go. 



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Here is our boat, with its cargo of dreams, 
Soothing and soft is its motion, 
Each little ripple says ''Hush!" so it seems, 
As we glide into Slumberland's ocean; 
We hear in the distance an echoing song. 
And to its sweet measures we listen , 
Then through the silence go drifting along. 
While the stars in the still water glisten. 

Nid noddy — so, 

Rock-a-by — slow, 
To the Land of the Sandman we'll go, we'll go, 
To the Land of the Sandman we'll go. 

The moon's silver crescent slips down in the West, 

And misty dream- shores lie before us. 

The Sleep- Angel comes, with a star on her breast, 

And spreads a soft canopy o'er us; 

Fair is the harbor, all purple and pearl, 

And rainbow^s above it are blended, 

Let drop the anchor and all the sails furl, 

Here has our voyaging ended. 

Nid noddy — so, 

Rock-a-by — slow, 
'Tis the Land of the Sandman, I know, I know, 
'Tis the Land of the Sandman, I know. 




—123— 



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MOVIN' TIME. 

^NCST, my Pa aud Ma and me 

An' Grandma an' my Auntie Grace 
What lived with us that time, 
Why, we all moved into another place 
From our old house, because Ma said 
The closets, they was awful few, 
An' cause the kitchen was too small, 
An' 'cause my Ma, she wanted to. 

My! Movin' is the mostest fun! 
A wagon an' two horses come, 
An' then the man what owned the team, 
Why, he was there and helped us some. 
He droved onto our flower-beds 
An' bust the Chiny asters down 
What we was goin' to take along — 
An' Ma, she frowned a nawful frown! 

N'en he dropped a bureau drawer 
An' split th' bottom all er long — 
I tell you, he was jest the man 
Fer helpin' move — he was so strong! 
You'd oughter seen him pack the things 
We carried out to him — an' my! 
He filled that wagon jest ez full^ 
And piled the things up jest ez high! 





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N'en he let me drive 'ith him 
To the new house, an' Auntie Grace 
An' Ma was there to take the things, 
An' my! You'd oughter seen that place 
When everything was carried in! 
The books was upset on the floor, 
The bedsteads in the kitchen an' 
The tongs hung on the parlor door! 

An' w^hen the dinin' table stuck 

An' wouldn't go but half-way through, 

That man, he says, ''Well, I'll be darned!" 

An' Ma sez, "Dear!" an' Pa sez "Phew!" 

I think movin's lots o' fun, 

'Cause nothin's orderly an' trim, 

But Pa, he sez 'at jest one move 

Is altogether 'nuff for him. 




An' when Ma saw the side board glass 
Was cracked, an' all the paint scratched some. 
She jest sat down in all the muss 
An' said she wished she hadn't come! 






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WIND SONG. 

(T)H, the ships in the windy sky! 

Their sails are set as they labor by, 
With flapping canvas and bending mast 
Over the billows they ride so fast! 
Poor ships, wrapped in the chill twilight, 
Beaten and battered the whole, long night! 
Here in my little bed I lie 
And pity the ships in the windy sky! 

Oh, the sheep in the windy sky! 

Huddled together now they lie 

And now they leap from their hiding-place 

And lead each other a frightened race; 

Poor little sheep, so gray and white! 

The wild wind chases them all the night; 

Here in my little bed I lie 

And pity the sheep in the w^indy sky! 

But when I rise in the dewy dawn 

The storm-tossed ships and the sheep are gone! 

The sky is calm as a sea of glass 

Or a sunny meadow of soft blue grass, 

And I know that in some port, fair and far, 

My ships lie anchored across the bar, 

And my tired sheep, that were lost and cold. 

Are sheltered safe in their shepherd's fold. 




—126- 



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DOT SPHRINGTIME. 



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^H, dot Sphringtime! Dot Sphringtime 

Ven mein liddle poy vas coom! 
Der rain vas raining oudt side 
Budt der inside of der room 
Vas youst so pright as sunshine 
Und full mit shmile und yoy! 
Ach! Ve vas gladt as neffer 
Pecause of dot shmall poy! 

I shtand me py Katrina 
Und all vot I could see 
Vas dot shmall liddle pundle 
Vot pelong to her — und me! 
Und Katrina shmile oop at me 
In a vay I not ferget, 
Und somehow I holdt her finghers 
Und mein eyes vas full of vet! 

Oh, dot Sphringtime! Dot Sphringtime 

Ven mein liddle poy vas dere 

Mit hees sheeks so full of roses 

Und der sunshine on hees hair! 

Und all der great vorld's money 

Und der reeches of der sea 

Couldt nodt haf puyed von deemple 

Of mein liddle poy, from me! 



-127- 



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Und idt vas awful foony, budt I neffer 

knew before 
Dot der shickens couldt make singing 
A clucking 'round der door! 
Und der yellow dandelions 
Vas plooming youst for yoy! 
Der vorld vas dressed oop lofely 
For dot shmall liddle poy! 

Und how he grew! Py cracky! 
In youst a liddle vile 
He'd holler out mit lafl&n' 
Instead of youst a shmile! 
Und he schqueal so blain as talking 
Und he keek hees legs oop — so! 
Und 'tvas more goot as moosic 
When he pegin to crow! 

Oh, dot Sphringtime! Dot Sphringtime, 

Undil dere coom a day 

Ven mein liddle poy lay qviet 

Und no did care to blay, 

Ven Katrina py hees cradle 

She sit der whole day droo 

Und der house vas shtill as nottings 

Und I know not vot to do! 



-128- 



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Und der Herr Doctor tell me 
*'Be brafe as you know how, 
For she need a vorld of comfort, 
Your poor, heart-proken Frau!" 
Und I dake her hands und visper 
''Gott yoin und den He part!" 
Budt she hang abofe dot cradle 
Mit a sob dot preak mein heart! 

Und ven I see mein liebling 
So shtill — und vite — und cold, 
Mit dose plue eyes shut for effer 
Und dose curls of sunny gold, 
I cover me mein face oop — 
Und der song und light und yoy 
All vloated pack to Heffen 
Mit dot schmall liddle poy ! 

Oh, dot Sphringtime! Dot Sphringtime, 

Ven Katrina und me, ve shtand 

Py a liddle grafe, dot draws us 

To dot far holy land! 

Und our house vas shtill as neffer, 

Budt Heffen holds von more yo}^ 

Since to dot Gott who sendt him 

Ve gafe our liddle poy ! 

—129— 




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Dedicated to My I^ittle Friend 
EMMOR PRENTICK ROOD. 



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All Aboard For Slumber Island. 



Wordsand Music by 
GERTRUDE THERESA CLARK 




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Ho, rubber dol - ly with the bright blue eyeslWe are go-ing on a jour-neyand will 




you go too? The sail - boat is the era -die, where the ba - by lies, 







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He's the lit -tie cap-tain and you shall be the crew! and the sails dip, dip, and the 




oars drip,drip, And Mo-ther is the steers'- man stea - dy with the 




set-ting of the sun has our voy-a-gingbe -gun, All a-board the sail boats 




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Hoi wool -ly lamb - ie with thf^ wig, wag,/ tail t We are 




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go - ing on a jour-ney and will you go too? Tis such a hap-py voy - age 




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you shall mind the sail and help the rubber dol - ly in all she has to do: and the 



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li:!rhtwa\es flow and the soft winds blow- Our lit-tiecralt i& sure aud stea«dy. The 




-132- 






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Song— THE TIN-WARE MAN. 

*([ USED to think I'd like to be 

A soldier, dressed in blue, 
With shining sword and epaulets 
And big brass buttons, too, 
But since I've been to Country-side 
To visit Auntie Nan, 
I've changed my mind, for now I think 
I'll be a tin ware man! 

The tin-ware man at Country-side 

Goes driving everywhere. 

He calls out loud so all can hear, 

* 'Tin-ware! Tin- ware! Tin-ware!'' 

And then the folks who want to buy 

A dipper or a pan, 

Run to the door and shout ''Hi, there!" 

To stop the tin-ware man. 

Sometimes he rattles on a can 
To bring the people out — 
I think it must be jolly fun 
To bang like that and shout! 
And oh, he has a pocket full 
Of pennies people pay ! 
I saw him take a handful out 
To make some change, one day! 




1^1- Pf— t;; — 1 



-135- 



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My Grandpa sa3^s that he will make 

A minister of me, 

And Papa says, ' 'Son, when you're grown 

A lawyer you shall be;" 

But I shall hurry to grow^ up 

As quickly as I can, 

So I can buy a speckled horse 

And be a tin- ware man! 



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WHEN THE EIGHT'S PUT OUT. 



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"^HINGS is awful different when the light's put out 

An' everything's so hushy an' so still! 
It kind o' makes you wonder if the Bogie Man's about, 
Awaitin' fer you on the window sill! 
An' the wind's voice sounds so lonesome, as though it 

tried to call, 
Eike some one lost an' wanderin' 'round in doubt — 
Now if 'twas in the daytime I shouldn't mind at all, 
But things is awful different when the light's put out! 



-136- 



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Oncst I woke up in the night-time, a wishin' fer a drink 

An' when I put my foots out on the floor 

An' started out to feel my way — now, what you s'pose 

you think? 
I 'ist walked right slam-bang into the door! 
An' I couldn't find the window an' I couldn't make a light 
An' everything was mixed up all about — 
When I got up in the mornin' , why, everything was right, 
But things is awful different when the light's put out! 

I tell you, when I go up-stairs at nine o'clock to bed 

An' Mother comes an' takes the lamp away, 

An' nobody's around what cares— I cover up my head 

An' shut my eyes up tight until they stay ! 

An' somethin' sort o' rustles — p'raps it's just the cat 

A walkin' in the darkness all about — 

I aint a bit afraid! Why, no! Of course I know it's that! 

But things is awful different when the light's put out! 








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d]c ^loiper anb the Kiss, 

(price 40c.) 

. . AND . . 

Ctll (Iboarb for Slumber 35lan6, 

(PRICE 50c.) 
MAY BE OBTAINED IN 
FULL SHEET MUSIC SIZE. THROUGH YOUR MUSIC DEALER, OR 
BY ADDRESSING THE PUBLISHERS, 

Che rnerrill press, 
tEoIebo, (Dbi'xo, 



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;kman 

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. DEC 88 

^ N. MANCHESTER, 
' INDIANA 46962 



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